


Revelations

by what_am_i_even_doing_tho



Series: An Unexpected Meeting [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bilbo Baggins is a gay disaster, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25528840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_am_i_even_doing_tho/pseuds/what_am_i_even_doing_tho
Summary: Bilbo wants to spend time with his very kind, very attractive neighbor, so what does he do? He makes up excuses to invite him over, that's what. In the process, Thorin's unpleasant past is revealed, and the two of them become just a little bit closer.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: An Unexpected Meeting [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846132
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	Revelations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Militia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Militia/gifts).



> Yes, hi, hello, I promise that the goal of this series is to be as fluffy as possible, but there is some angst in this one. It’s okay, though; it’s well(?) thought out, not that bad(?), and totally(?) relevant to the plot. …look, it’s Thorin’s backstory adapted for modern day, and my version is nowhere near as bad as Tolkien’s, so please, for the love of all things good, put the pitchforks and torches away. I swear that this isn’t just so that I can be a sadistic bitch (although I did, indeed, find pleasure in it anyway), and it does have actual relevance to the story.
> 
> Also, I would like to make it very clear that I know absolutely nothing about anything relating to business. I did ask some questions and do a little bit of research, but I honestly just don’t care enough to put the effort into making it 100% accurate. To any business majors out there, please forgive me for my sins.
> 
> Huge thanks to Lish again for the wonderful ideas that I incorporated into this, and for the title. Seriously, the incredible names were all her, and I would not have been able to come up with them on my own. She is Big Brain, and I am currently petitioning for there to be an international holiday named after her. Also, I'm thanking her for being my soundboard, however willing it may or may not be, and for being the person I go to when I'm craving some feedback (again the willingness may or may not be questionable, but hey she puts up with me, and I love her for that).

The past few weeks had flown by in a blur, and Bilbo found himself rather happy with how things were going. After settling down for tea that fateful day that he took a tumble down the stairs, he and Thorin had hit it off pretty well. It turned out that Thorin had just moved into an apartment on the same floor as Bilbo, just a few doors away. That day had been Thorin’s first in his new home, and he had been so worried about whether or not he had forgotten anything that he hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on around him. Bilbo had been quick to reassure him that he understood, and that he wasn’t cross with him. He didn’t think he could ever be angry at such a kind-hearted, attractive man, not that he would ever tell Thorin that.

Thorin went home shortly after, saying he needed to go make sure everything was in order and thanking Bilbo for the tea, and Bilbo found that he quite missed the company. Talking to Thorin was fun, and the silences that lulled between topics were never awkward or uncomfortable. Not to mention, he was very easy on the eyes, and the idea of looking at him more was rather appealing. He wanted to spend more time with the other man, but he couldn’t imagine himself just walking up to Thorin’s door and asking him to come over. No, that simply wouldn’t work; he would have to be sneaky about it. And so, Bilbo thought up a plan. 

The first time it happened, he had decided to bake some bread, craving the taste of a good homemade loaf and hoping to offer some of it to Thorin as a sort of “welcome to the neighborhood” gift. The problem was, however, that his flour was on the very top shelf of his cabinet, and he was much too short to reach it, never mind that he had put it there earlier that day for this very reason. He made his way down the hall to where Thorin had pointed out his apartment to him, and raised his hand to knock on the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet and ignoring the jittery feeling in his stomach. There was no response for a bit, and Bilbo wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have come; maybe Thorin wasn’t home, or maybe he was busy.

Bilbo shook his head, scoffing lightly at himself for his own foolish antics, and turned away to go back home. He stopped short at the sound of a door behind him opening. Looking over his shoulder, Bilbo felt his breath catch in his throat. Thorin was clad in gym shorts and a snug black tank top, putting all of his wonderful muscles on bold display. His hair was tied back into a bun on the back of his head, and he wiped at his sweaty and flushed face with the towel that was draped over his broad shoulders. Bilbo’s mouth was suddenly very dry, and he couldn’t quite decide if he wanted to look away or never look at anything else ever again.

Thorin’s eyebrows rose and a delighted smile shone on his face at seeing who was at his door, “Bilbo! What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?” 

“I-I uh,” Bilbo stammered, finding it difficult to look anywhere but the well-defined chest in front of him. “I needed some help. Reaching something. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Not at all,” Thorin answered. “I’d be happy to. Just let me go wash up; I doubt you’d want my help with me smelling like a locker room.” A brief nod was all Bilbo could manage, and Thorin smiled once more before closing his door. On shaky legs, he made his way back, doing his absolute very best to ignore the fact that Thorin could smell like a pigsty for all he cared, so long as he looked like that. 

The second Bilbo entered his apartment, he shut the door and braced himself against it. He frowned when, after feeling his forehead, he didn’t seem any warmer than usual. That was odd, considering how flushed and stuffy he felt. Maybe it was just the apartment that was warm, and he went into his bedroom to change into something lighter. Bilbo settled into his armchair afterwards and tried to read a book while waiting for Thorin to come over, but he just couldn’t focus. His mind kept flashing back to the way Thorin’s skin had glistened with sweat, and how his not inconsiderable muscles seemed to shine in the low light. There had been a few wispy strands of hair that had fallen out of the bun, and the way they had framed his face was simply—

A startled yelp escaped Bilbo as a knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He hurriedly put his book down and rushed over, opening the door and inviting Thorin inside. Thorin’s broad smile made Bilbo’s poor heart skip a beat, and he found himself longing to run his fingers through the other’s now damp hair. Shaking himself mentally, he walked over to his kitchen and pointed up at the offending cabinet.

“I wanted to make some bread,” He explained. “But the flour is up there, and I can’t reach it.”

Thorin nodded in understanding, and he placed a large hand on Bilbo’s shoulder as he walked by. Warmth flooded through his body, stemming from that small point of contact, and he was so lost in the feeling that he almost missed it when Thorin’s loose t-shirt rode up as he reached for the flour. Thorin set it down on the counter and turned to face Bilbo with a dazzling grin.

“Do you need me to get anything else?” He inquired, and Bilbo thought for a moment that he almost resembled an eager puppy, but he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind; that just couldn’t be right.

“No, thank you, that’ll be all.”

Bilbo felt as if something were squeezing his chest when he saw the slightly downcast look on Thorin’s face, and he was quick to add, “But I could put the kettle on, if you’d like?” Pure joy replaced the previous despondent look, and Bilbo smiled to himself, vowing silently that he would do whatever he could to make sure Thorin always looked like that. He filled his kettle with water and placed it on the stove, and the rest of that afternoon was spent teaching Thorin how to make bread.

As time went on, Bilbo continued to make up excuses for Thorin to come over. This day, he had a sudden urge to rearrange his furniture so that his armchair was closer to the window, leaving the floor more open and allowing him some natural light as he read. Being much too weak to move around such heavy objects on his own, he had asked his very attractive, very strong new neighbor to help. Another day, he decided to finally get rid of his old, beat up bookshelf in favor of a brand new one that had more room for his books. He asked Thorin over to help him get the books from his top shelf, and when asked how he had even gotten them up there in the first place, Bilbo had sheepishly explained that it involved risking his neck by standing on a tower of books stacked on a rickety chair.

Hearing this had shocked Thorin, and he made Bilbo promise that he wouldn’t try such dangerous stunts, especially considering Thorin was more than happy to help whenever he could. Bilbo had agreed, a prominent blush on his face and a warm, cozy feeling settling in his chest at the thought that Thorin could be worried about him. The very next day, when the new bookshelf came in, Bilbo invited Thorin over to help him put it together. When Bilbo had brought up that the other was very good at this, he had received an offhanded comment about how Thorin used to build things for a living, albeit typically on a much larger scale.

Bilbo’s excuses ranged from completely reasonable to absolutely ludicrous, and if he learned to time his requests for right when he knew Thorin to be finishing his daily workout, well, that was his little secret. Thankfully, Thorin never questioned the legitimacy of any of the excuses, and in Bilbo’s defense, there was actually one time when he had genuinely needed the help. He had been feeling a little guilty about always pestering Thorin and decided to try to move something heavy on his own. He ended up hurting his back, the timing of which was rather inconvenient, seeing as how he was due for another trip to the store. Bilbo was able to order his groceries online, but the delivery boy absolutely refused to lug them up three flights of stairs.

He couldn’t just let his groceries sit in the lobby, so very slowly and carefully, he had hobbled down the hall to Thorin’s apartment and asked him if he could bring them up. Thorin agreed instantly, and rushed to go get them, but not before he gently helped Bilbo back into his bed with the promise of lunch as soon as he got back. True to his word, Thorin brought the food up and made Bilbo quite an amazing meal. Thorin had blushed at the compliment, and Bilbo was grateful that he was already lying down; if he had been standing when he saw that, he surely would’ve fallen over. Bilbo had been feeling much better the next day, and when he went out to put away his newly acquired groceries, he was wonderfully astounded to find them all in their rightful places.

So now, nearly three weeks had passed since Bilbo met Thorin, and he was definitely happier than he had been in a long while. With his constant excuses, Thorin had been coming over every few days, and today Bilbo figured he was due for another visit. With an admittedly lackluster excuse of needing an extra hand in the kitchen, he made his way to Thorin’s door, whistling quietly all the way. He was surprised to see Thorin’s door already open, with the man himself standing in the doorway, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. There was another, stockier man standing in front of him, facing away from Bilbo so that the only discernable feature he could see was the head of fluffy, stark white hair.

Not meaning to intrude but unable to bring himself to walk away, he inched closer and picked up the sound of the stranger speaking, “-at snake Augustus is just trying to kick us while we’re down, laddie. Don’t let him get to you.”

Thorin scowled dangerously and responded with icy venom, “I know what he’s doing, and why he’s doing it, but he’s disgracing my family, Balin. How is that not supposed to get to me?”

A sigh escaped Balin, so weary that Bilbo almost felt tired just from hearing it, and Thorin shook his head angrily, looking away. Unfortunately, Bilbo happened to be standing in the exact spot that Thorin’s gaze had moved over to, and the taller man froze. Unsure what to do, Bilbo awkwardly raised one hand to give a small wave, ignoring the pleasant feeling in his chest at the fact that Thorin’s anguished look had softened considerably once he saw him. The barest hint of a grin alighted on the other’s face, and Balin turned around to see what had caused it to appear. A bushy eyebrow was raised, and a large hand moved up to stroke thoughtfully at the equally as bushy beard.

“Well now,” He drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Who might this be, Thorin?”

Not liking the feeling of being talked about as if he weren’t standing right there, Bilbo answered before Thorin had the chance to, stepping forward and offering his hand, “Bilbo Baggins. I’m one of Thorin’s neighbors.”

Balin shook his hand, looking back and forth between the two of them, and a knowing smirk grew on his face, “Oh, I’m sure you are.” Bilbo was a little bit baffled as to what exactly that was supposed to mean, but he didn’t get the chance to ask. Balin had released his hand, and with a wink aimed at Thorin, he abruptly turned and walked off.

“I’ll talk to you later, Thorin!” He called over his shoulder as he left, chuckling quietly to himself. Bilbo watched him go, then turned to Thorin, intent on asking what that was all about. He held his tongue, however, when he saw the scowl on the other man’s face, and he decided that perhaps he really didn’t want to know. A much safer question came to mind, instead.

“Who was that man?” Bilbo asked, wincing at how loud his voice sounded in the silence of the dimly lit hallway.

Thorin’s grimace faded quickly, replaced with a very small smile, “He’s a distant cousin, although he’s always been more of a father figure to me.” Bilbo hummed in response and felt himself flush slightly when Thorin seemed to give him a once-over. “Did you need help with something?”

Bilbo started, having completely forgotten about his plan of getting his very handsome neighbor to come over. He was about to say yes when he remembered the angry, sorrowful look Thorin had been wearing only moments before. Whatever that conversation with Balin had been about, it was nothing good. He had never seen Thorin look like that, only ever having given Bilbo smiles and laughter. Obviously, no one could be happy all the time, but it still made Bilbo’s heart clench painfully; he was of the firm belief that someone as kind and polite as Thorin deserved to always be happy. Knowing that what had happened was none of his business and biting back the urge to say something comforting, he instead decided that it would be best to leave Thorin be for now.

Awkwardly scuffing a foot against the floor and dropping his gaze to inspect an odd stain towards the bottom of the far wall, Bilbo shook his head, “Oh, don’t worry about it. It was nothing important; it can wait.”

The other man was swift in his response, “Really, I don’t mind. You know I’m always happy to help you.” His tone had an edge of desperation to it, and Bilbo’s head shot up to look at Thorin’s face. With a wavering smile and pleading eyes, Bilbo realized that maybe being left alone was the last thing he wanted right now. With a soft smile, he nodded to Thorin, waving for him to follow as he made his way back to his apartment. Like the good neighbor he was, he ignored the not-so-subtle sigh of relief that came from the other man. On the way to his apartment, he explained that he wanted to make a casserole and had figured that four hands would make the work much quicker. Thorin seemed eager to start, so they got right to it as soon as they arrived.

The two of them chatted comfortably as they prepared the necessary ingredients, and Thorin acted so content that Bilbo only remembered the conversation he had overheard in the hallway when he turned to ask Thorin to pass him a knife and saw the lost look on his face. It really was none of his business, but he could no longer resist the desire to comfort his incredibly kind and attractive neighbor. First things first, he had to find out what was wrong.

“Um, Thorin,” Bilbo started, voice hesitant. “Who’s Augustus?”

Thorin’s movements froze, and he was silent for so long that Bilbo began to fear he shouldn’t have asked, but at last the other man spoke through gritted teeth, “Stephen Martin Augustus is the CEO of SMAUG Construction. I’m sure you know of them.”

Bilbo hummed in affirmation, “Yes, I know that they’re rather large, and they’re rather pricey from what I’ve heard.” A pause. “What does any of that have to do with you, though?”

The taller man set down what he was working on and turned around to lean against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. With his gaze directed at some far-off point, as if looking at something that wasn’t really there, he answered with a wistful tone.

“Do you remember when I told you that I used to build things for a living?” After receiving a nod, he continued. “I ran my own construction company, Oakenshield and Co. It had been in my family for generations. It was wonderful; I wish you could’ve seen it. We always put our customers first, caring more about being affordable and flexible with payment plans than making as much money as possible. We were careful about where we built, being sure to never build where it could become a problem for the environment. Our customers were happy. We were all happy.

“But it was not to last. My grandfather had made some… Questionable financial decisions when he was in charge.” Here, Thorin’s voice darkened, anger and regret seeping from him his words. “They didn’t have any immediate repercussions, but by the time he passed on the ownership to me, we were struggling to make ends meet. SMAUG was our competitor, and even as we were failing, they were growing. It was only a matter of time before Augustus offered me money for the company.”

He looked down to his shorter companion, a look of pleading on his face, as if he were begging Bilbo to understand, “We were in debt, Bilbo; I could hardly even pay my own employees. I had no choice but to accept. There was nothing I could’ve done.” Thorin paused with a shuddering sigh, and when he continued, there was fury in his tone once more. “And then that bastard Augustus fired all my workers as soon as the deal was closed and replaced them with his scum, and his employees don’t care about things like being eco-friendly or affordable.”

Thorin dropped into silence, and Bilbo felt his heart ache for the other’s loss, “I’m so sorry, Thorin; that’s terrible. Is there anything that can be done?”

He received a bitter scoff in response, “Part of the deal was that I could try to buy back the company, but Augustus set the starting price so high that it would take me years to get the money together. I used what I gained from the sale to pay off the debt and compensate my employees, so I hardly have a penny to my name. It’s a hopeless endeavor.”

“You’re wrong,” Thorin’s eyebrows shot up at this, and Bilbo plowed forward despite the blush he could feel burning on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. Yes, perhaps Augustus is asking for an insane amount of money, but I believe you can make it if you put your mind to it. You’re a hard-worker, Thorin. You’re strong, and you’re determined. I believe you’re capable of anything. The sky’s the limit, right?”

The tiny, awed smile on Thorin’s face did nothing to lessen Bilbo’s blush, “Of course. You’re right; I shouldn’t give up hope.” Thorin placed a warm hand on his shoulder, and Bilbo felt like his poor legs had turned to jelly, placing a hand on the counter to brace himself. 

“Thank you, Bilbo,” He said softly. “I really needed to hear that.” Face as hot as a furnace, Bilbo stammered for a moment, unable to think with the pleasant shivers running through his body. Thorin removed his hand after a moment, and while he longed to reach out and take hold of it, at least he could form a response now.

“You’re quite welcome.” He answered with a smile of his own.

Almost as an afterthought, he added, “And I’ll happily remind you whenever it’s needed.” Thorin thanked him again with another heart-stopping grin, and Bilbo was so pleased to see it that he almost missed it when it dropped. Almost.

“There’s something else,” He said softly. “Isn’t there?”

Thorin sighed and nodded, face once again that horrible, heart-wrenching mixture of anger and sorrow, “Balin came to talk to me about an interview Augustus was in recently. In it, he said… He said that everyone would be better off if I wasn’t running a company.”

Shocked, and more than a little angry himself, Bilbo gasped, “Why on earth would he say something like that?!”

Looking almost grateful for Bilbo’s outrage, Thorin answered, “He… Well, I guess you could say he aired out some dirty laundry. He brought to light the decisions my grandfather made and explained that they were the reason Oakenshield went into debt. He also mentioned what happened to my father.”

The last sentence was spoken very quietly, and Bilbo wondered if he should leave it be, but his need to soothe away that look on Thorin’s face, as well as his curiosity, got the better of him, “And what happened?”

It took a few moments for Thorin to respond, and when he did, there was sadness in his eyes, and his face flushed slightly with shame, “He went missing before ownership ever fell to him. He was later found in a mental hospital several cities away.”

“Oh, Thorin…” Bilbo’s chest squeezed painfully, and try as he might, he couldn’t think up a response to that, instead settling for asking another question. “What would Augustus have to gain by revealing all that?”

Bitterness reentered Thorin’s tone, and Bilbo found he liked that much better than the anguish from before, “He’s hoping to use my family history to prove to the board that I would be unfit to return to my position of CEO. If I ever manage to get the money together, that is.”

Feeling a little indignant on Thorin’s behalf, Bilbo planted his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes at the taller man, “Now you listen here, Thorin Oakenshield. You are not your father. Nor are you your grandfather. You are your own man, and you will make that money, dang it; I know you will.”

Thorin, who had been stunned into silence, suddenly burst out laughing, and the noise was so wonderful and musical that Bilbo didn’t even care if he was the one being laughed at. It took a few seconds for Thorin to calm down, but once he had, he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and beamed at Bilbo in such a way that he was sure he was going to pass out right then and there.

“You seem to know exactly what to say,” He said, voice so warm that Bilbo wanted to wrap himself up in it. “And just how to say it. Thank you again, my friend,”

Bilbo’s brain came to a sudden, screeching halt. Thorin thought of him as a friend? Not just a neighbor, but a friend? Oh. Oh, that was splendid. They were friends! Bilbo fought the urge to run down the hall shouting, “we’re friends, we’re friends!” as that would be most embarrassing, but that didn’t stop him from screaming it within the safety of his mind. This had to be the second happiest moment of his life, the first being the day he met Thorin, of course. His heart swelled so much that he was sure it was going to burst out of his chest, and he suddenly felt lighter, like even gravity couldn’t hold him down. Bilbo’s overwhelming joy must’ve shown on his face because Thorin’s eyes held a twinkling glee of their own.

Realizing that he had probably been standing there silently, and likely looking like a fool for a few minutes now, Bilbo awkwardly cleared his throat, “Alright, then. Come on, this casserole won’t make itself.”

A comfortable silence fell over them as they worked, and Bilbo was pleased to see that Thorin no longer looked distressed, instead looking his usual, happy self. Once the casserole was in the oven, Bilbo put the kettle on and joined Thorin at the table, and they talked about everything and nothing while they waited. During a lull in the conversation, Thorin seemed to steel himself, and then a mischievous grin grew on his face. Slightly worried for his fate, Bilbo waited for him to speak. He didn’t have to wait long, and he really couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

“You know,” Thorin started in a voice even deeper than normal, eyes dancing with poorly concealed amusement. “If you just want to spend time with me, I’d be more than delighted to visit regularly. There’s no need to keep making up excuses for me to come over.”

Bilbo would forever be thankful that the kettle started whistling at that exact moment, meaning he was able to turn away and hide the ferocious blush that had spread to the tips of his ears in the blink of an eye. He valiantly ignored the soft but boisterous chuckle coming from behind him, and when he had composed himself enough to bring the kettle to the table, Thorin graciously ignored how badly he was shaking. It took Bilbo almost thirty minutes to calm down enough to form complete sentences without stuttering, and he was ever so grateful that his very polite, very handsome friend didn’t once point it out.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
